


he with his shattered heart.

by caticoo



Series: archer's empty heart. [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: M/M, Rejection, Suffering, THIS IS FOR CAPRI, Unrequited Love, basically just kiragi suffering over being rejected by percy, but then again you can take it as not death if you wanna, implied death?, implied percy/ophelia, this is shitty, tho its very little??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 10:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7711342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caticoo/pseuds/caticoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And that’s evident only when he secludes into the depths of isolation, away from anyone but he, himself, and his heart’s eyes and ears and touch and taste—everyone else is completely blind to the fact that Kiragi is practically screaming, yearning for someone’s help. Someone’s heart. But all he has is his own, which is scattered and pierced and nearly drained of love and happiness. The mask he wears and the smile he bears certainly doesn’t help, and when he grins, he tries to convince himself it’s real—but he knows, he knows too much, that it’s just another fib.</p>
            </blockquote>





	he with his shattered heart.

**Author's Note:**

> hi. my name is cati! as you can see, i love kiragi.  
> this is the first in a series marked "archer's empty heart" (edgy name amirite), centering around unrequited feelings that kiragi has for other boys. this is a percy/kiragi fanfic, my ultimate rarepair.
> 
> this one is dedicated to @caprisoda on twitter, whom i appreciate for yelling abt peragi with me.  
> this was written in two hours, so greatly apologize for any typos or the like!

“Gosh Kiragi! I’m flattered…er…but…”

Right then, the waves begun to crash.

“I don’t, er…swing that way. I’m sorry…”

He knew it. How did he not know? It was completely evident, in the way Percy’s interest seemed to be caught up more in delicate faces and wide eyes. Wonderfully glossy hair and graceful movements in battle—who wouldn’t find that attractive? And he knew, he knew it! He knew that he should’ve asked for reassurance. He knew he should have double checked. He knew that, in any moment, no matter how perfect he had set up, no matter how many countless times he would replay it with a happy ending, all the outcomes were false. In the end, it was evident—Percy’s answer was clear as day. Clear as the bright sky that flashed in his daylight skies, the pair of orbs he absolutely adored staring into (when he got the chance—he couldn’t stare for too long, otherwise, the Wyvern Rider would’ve questioned the intense look).

So why did he not? He could’ve asked… he could’ve asked someone to ask. He could’ve waited, to bring it up in a casual 3 AM conversation. But no—as the skies begun to burst into ambers and the sun became a warm pumpkin, sitting upon a swing set in the land of light, the words began to tumble out without much thought.

 _Percy_ , breath choppy, cheeks flushed, the name clicking and tasting like fragrant roses—beautiful, familiar, but deadly all the same. A name that held love and power, and flight and freedom—and Kiragi’s heart. Nearly all of it, and would have been marked with every ounce if Percy would only accept so. _I need to tell you something._

And there’s his eyes, which avert from the calming sun that sets over the horizons; he’s perfect, Kiragi thinks. He’s always been perfect; with a smile like his own and the straws of hair just as carelessly brushed as his. The smile he can hear, ringing from memories, and the sound of his heart, just so distant, just so close. Its there, he’s there, and it’s just out of reach—and he feels it. In his fragile little heart and his headstrong soul, he knows, and it arrives.

_I li- er… no. Percy… I love you! I’ve loved you for a long time! And… I wanted to know if you’d willing to… be with me?_

Kiragi hadn’t even noticed he had stood from his relaxing seat on the swing to confess, to blurt out what his heart desperately wishes to say. To tell Percy how amazing he is, how wonderful it is to be around him, how cute he looks. How much he wants to wrap his arms around him and call him his. And with a heavy breath Kiragi’s tense posture relaxes as the archer puts his hand to his heart, which beats like a symphony of drums—so loud, so boisterous, so fast, yet so quiet all the same.

And his beloved Percy, he simply stares at the mess of a boy in front of him—eyes twinkled and roses blooming ever brightly behind the fabric mask he wears. Kiragi’s hopes rise—that look, its amazement, is it not? He has a chance, doesn’t he? Those fantasies, the fantasies of adventures in the woods and stargazing on a chilly night and the fantasies of quiet evenings with just them and their hearts; he believed. He believed, it was right there, just in front of him, written on Percy’s flushed expression.

Simply, everything exploded.

At first, it’s a feeling of nothingness. It’s a blank, empty sensation; it’s as if Percy has admitted the obvious, like what he had eaten for lunch that day, or what the weather was like that afternoon. Like something completely bland he had witnessed that morning, or how chilly it was in the nights. It’s as if it’s information that Kiragi is already aware of, information he takes no interest in. And then the realization that hits him is like an arrow to the chest—no, the chest isn’t enough. Its multiple arrows; and they sting like daggers with poison that seeps through their blades.

But all Kiragi can do is smile; and it’s amazing how fake it is, it’s amazing how _real_ it looks. It’s amazing how he’s able to conceal, to recover, and to forget so fast—to forget that he’s hurting. At least, that’s what he thinks—he thinks he’s forgotten, he thinks that this will pass. But he isn’t prepared for the absolute despair he’ll be plunged in, once the sun disappears and Percy abandons his side for his mount that waits at the end of the hill, to return to Nohr, a home where Kiragi was not even meant to be at peace with. Instead, the archer shrugs as he says the largest fib of all— _that’s okay._

It’s the absolute opposite of okay.

And when the sun is put out and there are no more fires to burn in the sky, Kiragi retreats to his room and settles upon his futon, cushions sinking and welcoming their master back to his chambers. But Kiragi pays no mind—all his mind does is repeat Percy’s words. _I’m sorry,_ his voice echoes. I’m sorry.

“No... That’s wrong,” The prince whispers, as the walls decorated with conquered prey and works of calligraphy become a blur, and the cold tears that are absolutely unfamiliar begin to escape. But this time, he doesn’t try to stop; he doesn’t try to hold back. His optimism low, his heart taking one giant plunge, and he begins to sob, silently, the moon as his only witness, a low murmur as he mumbles repetitively. “ _I’m_ sorry…I’m sorry…”

It’s a while before he can settle into bed, to try and wash away the tears that stained his sheets with his slumber—but even so, his mind is clouded. When his eyelids shut, all he remembers his him, and when he opens them, there he is, printed on his ceiling, a movie projected by his memories. He sees him laughing, he sees him smiling, and he sees them holding hands—he sees them exchanging kisses and catching prey and snuggling up on cold nights. But even as he reaches towards the visions, they disappear, just out of reach, never to be obtained. And he still sees him once slumber catches him—he sees him in his dreams, and he sees himself, as well. Only instead of waltzing in a field of flowers, or laughing aimlessly at the sound of a joke, Percy is there, standing, back turned, so far away.

Kiragi’s feet pick up its pace—why does he run when he knows he’ll never catch him? No matter how many steps he takes, no matter how far he runs, no matter how fast the wind feels against his hair, Percy is far from his reach—and just as he thinks that’s the worst thing, he trips at the snatch of his foot, tumbling to the floor in defeat. With a glance over his shoulder, the vines of the roses that are tucked in Percy’s name begin to wrap against his shins, pulling him, depriving him from his goal. Kiragi tries to shout, but nothing comes out. Kiragi tries to scream, but he cannot be heard. And Percy continued to stand where he is, oblivious, until he begins to walk, distancing himself even further from Kiragi and his fate.

He cannot help but sob, even in his dream—and the sight and sting of the rose vines entangle the boy as he reaches out towards the dimming figure of the boy he adores, until that too is suppressed and taken by the grasp of rejection.

And once he’s swallowed, completely drowning in the dark despair, he shoots himself out of the covers, a cold sweat dripping down his chin as he groans in frustration. Even in his slumbers, the thoughts of Percy’s rejection won’t leave him to himself; he wishes he could go back into time and reverse everything. Maybe then, he wouldn’t have woken up, sweating and scared and now on the verge of tears once more. Maybe then, he wouldn’t have to feel his heart being slowly ripped to the core in absolute misery.

With a hop out from his futon, Kiragi pulls open the door to his balcony, expecting to be greeted by the morning sun—but all he sees is a sea of stillness and dark, the country of Hoshido quieted and hushed by the late hour. It’s another sigh that escapes Kiragi’s mouth as he looks out and upon the moon, which shines full (perhaps it isn’t full—Kiragi wouldn’t know. All he assumed was it was). Erase him, it says, and Kiragi raises an eyebrow. But it’s not the moon that tells Kiragi to remove Percy from his thoughts—it’s his own conscious, and as much as Kiragi wishes to say otherwise, he cannot help but oblige as he saunters back into his chambers to pull out a box of written works.

Old paper with young scribbles of Kiragi’s thoughts of the Wyvern Rider—old stories of days where his affections slowly began to rise, until he realized the pumping of his heart and the desire to be next to him was indeed love. Kiragi nearly tears up again at the ungodly amount that’s piled neatly into the one-page storage box; but understands what he has to do, if he wants to forget all he can. With a quick search for the tome, Kiragi begins to summon and eventually call for the fire that Ophelia had once taught him how to use—and with the fire that ignites in his palm, he whisks it at the box that he had pushed onto the balcony, and watches it burn up into smoke until he finds his sleep yet again, witnessing his feelings and heart being smothered up into ash right in front of him.

When he awakens, the ray of the sun scatters upon his closed eyelids, and he doesn’t realize that he had slept with tears falling from his face (he blamed the smoke of the fire for corrupting his eyes and causing them to become teary, when he knew the real reason to why. He just didn’t want to admit it—he wouldn’t fall to such emotions, even though he also knows he already is). He’s groggy and cluttered and disorganized in every which way—and he can’t bring himself to escape his room after the first thing he sees is the burnt up box, dark black ash scattered upon the balcony that hadn’t floated away in the morning breeze. But that’s alright, he tells himself once he eventually gathers his weak body and broken heart, and the morning simply consists of Kiragi attempting to read what he had burnt the night prior, until realizing, like his heart, the writings had blackened and perished in their own way.

 _Pay no mind_ is what his head says, but all that he can hear is how broken and bent Percy had bruised his ever fragile feelings. When his heart weeps, so does he. When his heart forgets, so does he. And when he sees Percy after that night, his heart chooses to still and quiet, to silence to see what Percy might do. The smile that Percy gives him when they catch glances warms the ever shattered thing he calls his soul, but even so, Kiragi knows that there’s no chance for anything more—just be friends, he tells himself. All they are are friends, and it would never be anything more. Percy had said so himself, after all.

He doesn’t realize it, but Kiragi crumbles—it’s slow and frustrating, and he believes he’s getting better, but it’s all his simple false hope. This is Kiragi, after all, and the mask of smiles he puts on whenever Percy glances his way can even fool himself. And he believes that he’s getting better, he believes in himself and believes in his heart and believes in his head, but in the back of his mind is the abandonded and true thought—he wouldn’t get better. He couldn’t. Not after he chose to love Percy so much, too much, only to dive too deep into his fantasies and completely drown in refusal and denial. It’s a slow consumer, the waters of Kiragi’s emotions—he mindlessly dives, deeper and deeper, and when the truth reveals itself, he’s too far from the surface to survive.

And that’s evident only when he secludes into the depths of isolation, away from anyone but he, himself, and his heart’s eyes and ears and touch and taste—everyone else is completely blind to the fact that Kiragi is practically screaming, yearning for someone’s help. Someone’s heart. But all he has is his own, which is scattered and pierced and nearly drained of love and happiness. The mask he wears and the smile he bears certainly doesn’t help, and when he grins, he tries to convince himself it’s real—but he knows, he knows too much, that it’s just another fib.

The lie only grows and his pains only worsen once Kiragi sets eyes upon the Wyvern Rider at one of the traditional Hoshidan festivals (which he was looking forward to spending with Percy), happily grinning and cheeks obviously evident to attraction with the Dark Mage that had taught Kiragi to wield the flame—Ophelia Dusk, who’s hand intertwines with Percy’s, who’s other holds near her mouth in attempts to stifle a giggle, a goldfish pouch clenched at the top, evident of Percy’s win at a booth. Kiragi’s already shattered soul completely breaks—no, no. It doesn’t break. All it does it hush, quieter, quieter, until even Kiragi can’t hear himself weep anymore.

The arrow he used to so proudly wield is now a discarded memory, as he doesn’t even remember how to carry with confidence anymore. And although his father questions his lack of hunting or training in these days, Kiragi only shrugs and lies once more, to tell his father he has been busying himself with studies in his room. That fact makes Takumi a little more proud, and even then Kiragi feels only a bit of happiness creep up on him—but of course, it is once again slayed with the truth as Kiragi remembers that he only secludes himself to avoid the sight of Percy. To avoid any reminder of him, and yet, even so, it seems as if his room is the place where he remembers him the most.

* * *

 

One last chilly evening, and Kiragi decides to take a stroll out in the courtyards, where he once roamed and sauntered with Percy at his side, mindlessly discussing topics of interest, constantly laughing and hollering and hushing each other up at the sound of anyone coming in curiosity at the laughter of two boys in the AMs. And as the archer trots throughout the gardens, there he is—he’s almost like a ghost, and just another one of his visions, but when Kiragi’s sandal hits the gravel below, his head reacts and Percy’s eyes shine bright in the moonlight.

The wyvern rider abandons the wooden seat in favor of the prince, and Kiragi can’t quite believe what he’s experiencing. His heart, his crush, the one who shattered him standing right in front of him with a smile, and he almost feels as if this is another hallucination until Percy begins to speak.

“Heh, sorry that this is sorta abrupt. But I never see you around anymore, it got me worried! And if there’s anything I know about you, is that you like to take walks at this hour with me. I knew you’d be here!” Percy’s voice is hushed yet excited, not wishing to ruin the peace of the garden, not to disturb any of the slumbering flora. Kiragi’s eyes are wide in surprise, but he only nods, shrugging as his eyes avert towards the koi pond that sits just a few feet from their toes.

“Oh. Hey Percy… and yeah, I’m a little surprised you were able to pass by the guards! But then again, they know who you are, huh?” Feet shuffling sheepishly, it’s strange to converse with him again—it’s not like it’s something he doesn’t want to do, more of, he isn’t sure if it’s something that his heart wants to do. He looks towards his emotions, but all they do is keep silent, and even he doesn’t know how to feel other than pure blankness tinged with a sprinkle of surprise at Percy’s appearance.

“Yup! Though, I was worried, Kiragi…I haven’t seen you in a while, y’know? …Is it because of what happened last time we talked?” His tone becomes more hushed as he continues on with his sentence, and obviously, Kiragi can’t blame him—he’d be hesitant if he’d brought up the situation as well. But he was on the other end of the spectrum at that moment, and Kiragi can feel his feet freeze up in terror at Percy’s words. He didn’t expect the topic to be brought up again, in fact, it was one of the last things he wanted to be remembered and reminded of—but what else was there to talk about between them, after such a long absence from each other?

“I…,” Kiragi exhales, tiredly and loudly, and he doesn’t quite know what else to say. It’s true, he’s lost control over himself—over his emotions, his soul, his heart, his optimism. He just isn’t himself, and Kiragi is aware of that. He’s aware that Percy has done this to him, but he isn’t mad. No, he’s still there—he’s still himself. He’s still the same old, lovey-dovey, head-over-heels for the wyvern rider Kiragi, and yet, why hasn’t he forgotten about him yet? Why is he his thoughts, every single day? Why does he still weep when he thinks of him and the distant fantasies of his mind?

But just as there’s another exhale, the sight of a figure whisks past, and an arrow whizzes past Kiragi’s head—and the boys turn towards the source, only for more arrows to whizz past them and miss into the shrubbery that surrounds them.

“H-huh?! Y-Yikes!” Kiragi yelps at the graze of an arrow at his arm, tearing his sleeve, but not flying deep enough to pierce his skin.

“Whoa, what the—” Percy fumbles, but before anything else could be said, Kiragi grabs his wrist and whisks the boy in front of him, and they dart off towards the castle, furiously ignoring the flowers and plants in their way as Kiragi and Percy dodge the flying arrows. And once inside the castle, all is safe and sound when the noise of guards yelling after a darting outlaw—Percy is completely sure that there, they will find their peace.

It’s completely otherwise.

“That was a close one! We made it safe, Kira—” Percy begins in a huff, turning around to his friend who at first seems completely alright, until he takes a tumble into Percy’s unexpected arms. The blonde huffs in surprise, unsure to why he had suddenly embraced him, only to realize that an arrow had found its home in the prince’s left shoulder blade. “Wh-?! Kiragi, you’re-!”

There’s a groan of displeasure from the silver-headed and Percy swoops the boy, carrying him as if he were a bride and facing down at him, “D-Don’t worry Kiragi! I gotcha—I’ll find someone, just hang on!”

And Kiragi can feel his heart, beating ever quietly—perhaps because he’s losing consciousness, the blade of the arrow piercing into his heart, deeply or lightly to be found out. Or perhaps it’s because he’s here, in Percy’s arms, and he can hear his heart race through his chest as he scurries to find a healer—and this is the best thing he closes his eyes to.

“…Percy...heehee…thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can take the ending as if kiragi died or if he just fell unconscious, and you can also assume what percy wants to tell him late at night.  
> its up for interpretation.  
> thank you for reading! kudos are highly appreciated.


End file.
